


A Cat May Look At the King

by VolxdoSioda



Category: Final Fantasy XIV, Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gen, Miqo'te!Noctis, Noctis narrowly avoids an asswhipping via Ignis, RIP Ignis' last can of Ebony we hardly knew ye, but mostly he just knock shit over, catboy Noctis, he attack, he protect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 08:01:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17117528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VolxdoSioda/pseuds/VolxdoSioda
Summary: Y'jhimei had explained it as best she could, when she'd gifted Noctis the Miqo'te orb."You're animal and not. You're smarter than a regular cat, but you have instincts that will go against the human need to be polite. You're still you, but... now there's another layer. You just kinda have to learn to reconcile with yourself, a lot, and be patient. You'll learn how to do it. I did, and it took me forever!"Noctis doesn't have 'forever' - what he has is three men that are expecting him to lead them to where they need to go, and the hiss of something feral in his head that wants to curl around those men and clean them and guard them and not let anyone else touch them. He has right now, the night full of daemons, and himself, wide awake.





	A Cat May Look At the King

He can hear something moving, out there in the dark.

As much as Noctis does his very best not to squirm around, he can't stop his ears - the cat ones - from tracking every single threat that's outside. Which is a majority of the world right now, to his new senses. He can smell the stink of the daemons from here - pungent, oily rot, and something metallic that makes him think of old, abandoned buildings and too-silent scrapyards. It sets his teeth on edge, and the thin line of fur he's come to sport around his spine and arms is puffed up in alarm.

He wants to yowl back into the darkness, hiss and growl and parade at the edge of the haven until the daemons understand that there is a predator here, one far bigger than them, one that will not abide their trespass into  _his_ territory. 

Y'jhimei had explained it as best she could, when she'd gifted Noctis the Miqo'te orb.  _"You're animal and not. You're smarter than a regular cat, but you have instincts that will go against the human need to be polite. You're still you, but... now there's another layer. You just kinda have to learn to reconcile with yourself, a lot, and be patient. You'll learn how to do it. I did, and it took me forever!"_

Noctis doesn't have 'forever' - what he has is three men that are expecting him to lead them to where they need to go, and the hiss of something feral in his head that wants to curl around those men and clean them and guard them and  _not let anyone else touch them._ He has right now, the night full of daemons, and himself, wide awake.

He drags in another breathe, and the hair that isn't puffed up does so immediately - he can smell the daemons closer than ever, and it's enough to get him out from between Prompto and Ignis, tucking Prompto's arm around Ignis' hip, and stepping outside. Out in the open air, the smells are worse, and Noctis finds himself tilting his head back before he can stop himself, lips peeling back and mouth opening as he tastes their scents in the air. There are so many threats, it sends every fiber of his being trembling, and he can't stop the low, rumbling growl that emerges, or his ears from flattening against his head, his stance stiff as he stares out into the darkness.

The daemons evidently recognize a fight when they see one. The screams and howls get louder, closer, and Noctis' own deep growl pitches to match, his teeth bared in the light, hands curling into claws as he stands there. 

 There are Red Giants ambling out in the darkness, and by the light of their swords Noctis sees the others. Bombs, Tarantulas, Grim Reapers, Garchimacera and many more. His tail lashes, fury and disgust in one, ears twisting and turning as he listens to them call back to him.

Part of him wants to leap down and rend them all. Rip them apart until there are no threats in his territory. But part of him doesn't want to leave the three men in the tent alone for even a second - what if the magics of the haven suddenly fail, or one of the daemons manages to get through? He needs to stay and protect them, keep them safe. They're his, and he won't let them get hurt.

But he wants to fight the daemons, drive them off, and send a message. He can't do both. Can't stay and go at the same time. 

So in the end, he winds up staying like that, perched at the edge of the haven, growling back at the daemons until the sun rises, and Ignis stumbles out of the tent.

"Noctis?"

Noctis doesn't do more than flick his tail and turn an ear towards Ignis to show he's heard his name being called. The sun is still soft in the morning mist, still not quite up. They're still vulnerable. He has to stay on guard until the sun is truly up. 

By the time that happens, and Noctis' instincts retract enough for him to wrap his tongue around human words again and step back from the edge of the haven, breakfast has come and gone, the camp wrapped up. Prompto presses a bowl into his hands as Gladio and Ignis stand by, both with concerned expressions. "Alright there, buddy?"

"Yeah," Noctis manages, voice rough from all the growling he's done. "Now I am. Let's go."

He's content to let them lead - to let Ignis and Gladio and  Prompto get ahead of him while he lingers behind. Not out of laziness, but to watch their backs. He's no longer shaking with the urge to kill, but his brain is still insisting that they're vulnerable, and he can warp in front of himself faster than he can behind.

Of course, Gladio gets tired of looking back to check he's still there after a time, and decides to tell him so. "You wanna get up here, Prince Charmless?"

"Not particularly," Noctis replies. "Not while your backs are open."

Prompto actually puts a hand behind him, touching his spine like Noctis means it literally. Ignis however, only frowns.

"Noct, we're perfectly capable of protecting ourselves."

Noctis only smiles, and motions for them to go ahead. After a moment, Gladio grumbles something and storms on ahead. Prompto follows, but Ignis remains where he is. So does Noctis.

"I'm beginning to believe that outfit is more trouble than it's worth," Ignis says softly.

"What, don't trust me?" Noctis asks.

"It's not a matter of trust. Your behavior--"

"Is much the same as it's ever been, Ignis. Just a little less tame now. Relax." His ears turn as something rustles in the nearby bushes; Noctis' nose picks up the scent second before the Coeurl lunges.

The beast moves fast. 

Noctis moves faster.

He slams into it's side with a scream that's only mostly human, and they go down in a tangle of fur and limbs and building magic. Noctis doesn't hear or see Ignis anymore, all he sees is  _threat,_ and he acts on that,  lashing out with teeth and claws and mauling the beast until it stops moving. There's blood and gore covering his nails and hands, and he's growling again, ears flat against his head, and he can feel blood dripping from wounds on his face, but he doesn't care. The interloper is  _dead,_ and Ignis is  _safe,_ and--

"--octis? Noctis, can you hear me?"

He blinks, his body untensing as he turns.

Ignis and Gladio and Prompto are standing there, faces pale, weapons in hand. Ignis is the one calling to him, a little closer than the others, half-reaching out like he wants to touch Noctis, but isn't sure if it's the right choice.

 _Smart,_ Noctis thinks.  _I probably would have clawed him._

"Noct?" Prompto calls, and Noctis blinks at them, flicking his tail. 

"Yeah?"

Gladio lets out a heavy breath. "He's back. Holy shit." The sword in his hand vanishes, and he presses the heels of his hands to his eyes. Noctis can smell stress and  _fear_ radiating off him.

"What?" Noctis looks between the three of them. "I wasn't about to let Ignis get mauled. Not by  _that_ thing, at least." He can't stop the distaste in his voice.

Prompto smells unsure, and more than a little afraid. Ignis smells  _angry -_ and Noctis wrinkles his nose, stepping closer to appease his packmate.

Only to yowl when Ignis grabs him by one velvet-soft ear and  _tugs._

"Last I recall," he says, voice whip-sharp and very displeased. "I was more than capable of protecting myself, Noctis Lucis Caelum. I will say again - this outfit is more trouble than it's worth! Off with it, now!"

Noctis mewls, ears tilting back, head ducking beneath Ignis' chin. A rumbling purr starts up in place of the growl, as his brain chants  _appease appease appease._ The only thing he's able to stop himself doing is licking Ignis, and that's because he's aware if he does that, Ignis will happily put him in a headlock and strip him naked himself.

"I didn't want you hurt," Noctis mutters. "I'm sorry. I'm  _sorry,_ okay?"

Gladio's eyebrows have gone up into his hairline. Prompto looks like he doesn't know if he should be peeling Noctis away or grabbing his camera. Ignis himself looks like Noctis just bashed him across the face with his own frying pan. 

At last his scent transitions to  _flustered_ and he pushes Noctis back. "Noct, I'm not upset. I'm merely  _worried."_

"S'not what you smell like," Noctis mumbles. "You smell angry."

"You can  _smell_ us? Dude!"

"Yep," Gladio confirms. "We've officially hit weird status. Time for those clothes to come off, buddy." 

Ignis hooks arms beneath Noctis', stopping him when Gladio steps closer. Noctis puts up a brief fight, but stops when Ignis makes a displeased sound behind him, instinct telling him this is his clowder, and he needs to keep them happy.

"There!"

"Uh, buddy, don't mean to tell you how to do your job, but why aren't the ears and tail gone? Also Noct, love the boxers."

His cheeks go pink. The boxers in question have fish on them. A gift from Ignis many years ago. 

"What'd you do, stick the orb down your shorts?" Gladiolus grumbles.

Noctis blinks. "Actually--"

He isn't able to finish that thought however, as Gladio rolls his eyes and  _shoves his hand down Noctis' pants._

The scream  _that_ gets him is entirely human, for all that Noctis breaks free of Ignis' hold and lashes out with claws, catching Gladio across the bridge of the nose with his claws before high-tailing it up a tree, hissing when Ignis implores him  _come down Noctis, Gladio is very sorry he did that **aren't you Gladiolus?**_

Prompto meanwhile, is laughing too hard to help. Noctis pulls a spare set of clothes from the Armiger, hisses at them again for good measure, and curls up in the topmost branches of the tree just to spite them.

 

_0-0-0-0-0-0-0_

 

It has been, in Ignis' opinion, a very long day, and it hasn't even hit noon yet.

After the utter mess that was Gladiolus' attempt to help remedy the situation, and Noctis' escape up a tree, they'd gotten Y'jhimei on the horn - or on the orb, as the case was - to ask  _what in bloody hell was going on with Noctis and why the orb was no longer present._

 _"Hmm,"_  Y'jhimei's voice was tinny over the orb.  _"Um, sometimes that happens? It's kind of a... glitch. Honestly. It'll show back up! Just... try again tomorrow?"_

"We don't have tomorrow," Ignis had snapped, more than a little frazzled. He could still feel Noctis pressed up against his throat, the vibrations of a rusty purr out of a throat that should not have been able to make such sounds. "He's acting more  _cat_ than human, Y'jhimei. We need to get the clothes off him  _now."_

 _"Ah,"_  Y'jhimei said again.  _"Well uh, here's the thing... you can't?"_

Ignis blinked at the orb. "What do you mean," he asked slowly. "We  _can't?"_

And so Ignis and company had learned that apparently the magic of the orbs tended to fuse to the natural magic of Eos - a discovery Y'jhimei herself had only recently found out by complete accident. The result meant that the orb that gave Noctis the powers of the Miqo'te had dissolved, and Noctis had effectively gone from being human to being Miqo'te.

_"As best I can tell at this time, the effects aren't reversible. I'll keep looking, but you guys are just gonna have to get used to it. I'm sure once Noctis calms down, it'll get better! It's just the newness of the nature. We all act like cats in the beginning. We still do, but when you get older it starts to become less... important? Just give him some time._ _"_

"How's that saying go?" Prompto mutters as he watches Noctis' tail flick in a pattern Ignis knows to mean  _irritated cat, going to lash out if bothered._ "A cat may look at the King--"

"Do not," Ignis says as carefully as he can. "Finish that sentence, Prompto."

Prompto takes one look at his expression, and clams up. 

"Noct, please come down," Ignis tries again. "We do need to get on the road again."

He's banking on their need for movement to do what begging and pleading won't - from what little he's seen, Noctis seems wholeheartedly wrapped up now in  _their_ protection, their safety, their happiness. So if it makes Ignis displeased to be trapped in one spot, perhaps he'll come down and they can remedy that. "We need Potions, Noctis. I'd rather not drive in the dark."

 _Bingo._ Noctis' tail puffs for a brief moment, and a moment later there's the  _whoosh_ of air and the tinkering sound of crystals as he reforms in front of them. 

"Let's go then," he says, like it isn't him that's been holding them all up.

"Gladiolus is sorry," Ignis says again, as they walk. The man in question is quietly waiting in the car, after Ignis glared him in that direction. "He will keep his hands to himself in future."

"Cool," Noctis says, uncaring. His ears are moving, listening to the world around them, and there's a bored expression on his face that pretty much encapsulates his new nature. Ignis kind of wants to wring his neck for it. Just a little.

He won't, because he loves Noctis even when he's being an unrepentant little  _brat,_ but yes. He has to flex his hands a few times on the steering wheel to remind himself that strangling his own king is not acceptable.

It's almost a mercy when Noctis immediately falls asleep in the car, body and ears stilling as he snoozes. Gladio looks relieved, and Prompto takes a couple pictures and then zones out his own self. The drive is quiet, the radio playing barely any noise, and for a moment Ignis can believe it's just another drive to another place - there's no issue with otherworldly visitors or orbs turning people into different species with no handbook to guide them.

The lie only lasts until they camp again, and Noctis wakes up.

In the beginning, it's fine. Noctis sits on the edge of the haven, and doesn't budge. He's staring into the darkness with the same intensity he did in the morning, and Ignis suspects, the night before as well. Every now and again he'll get up and move around, but he stays on the edge for the most part.

"Dinner's on," Ignis calls. The stew he's been cooking smells divine, and his stomach rumbles. "Come get it while it's hot." He sets the spoon down on the edge of the grill, turns to grab the seasonings, and when he turns back the spoon is on the ground.

He picks it up, wipes it down quickly, and then lays it back down. 

"Ignis, we got any ketchup?"

"Right here."

He turns back. The spoon is on the ground again.

Ignis doesn't own cats, but he's heard stories of the mischief they get up to. Noctis is six, seven steps away, but he's  _quick_ and he's  _quiet,_ and nobody else would knock a spoon over. It certainly isn't the wind doing it.

He decides to test his theory. Lays the spoon down again, turns his back, but this time just barely keeps his head turned.

Noctis turns around, moves four steps, bats the spoon off the side of the grill, and walks right back across the haven like he's done nothing wrong.

Ignis can't strangle Noctis, but he can certainly strangle the cloth napkin in his hands. It makes for a poor substitute, but it'll have to do, given the circumstances. 

This is how he comes to discover that in Noctis' new brain, certain things go in certain spots, and if those certain things are not in those certain spots, then he needs to knock them over until Ignis puts them back where they go. Correctly.

Of course he would only discover this early the next morning, when he puts his first and  _only_ cup of Ebony down for a moment to answer Prompto's question, and a second later there's a shattering sound of porceilain hitting rock, and Gladio's expression goes pale with fear.

"That doesn't go there, Specs," Noctis says in that same bored-out-of-his-mind tone, and the only reason Ignis doesn't get himself a new fur coat right then and there is because Prompto grabs him and reminds him "He's the King, he's the  King, he's the  _King,_ Ignis!"

Noctis glances over, takes in the fury of his coffee-less adviser, and turns right back around without a care in the world.

Ignis takes back the strangling thing. Why strangle when putting Noctis over his knee would be much more satisfying? A sharp swat tended to make ill-behaved children rethink bad behavior, after all.

(Again he doesn't, because again,  _King,_ but it's tempting. Incredibly tempting, and getting harder to ignore.)

"Breathe, Ig," Gladio says. "I'll go get you some more."

"We haven't the funds, Gladiolus," he snaps out. "More to the point, you weren't the one who knocked it over."

Noctis tilts an ear towards him. The urge to yank him around is growing. Prompto's still got his (surprisingly strong) grip on him however, so Ignis doesn't. 

But if Noctis' breakfast comes out charred and bitter, well, that's certainly not his fault. Blame it on the lack of coffee.


End file.
